


You Deserve It

by Warmhandscoldheart



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Gen, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, I Made Myself Cry, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Protect Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 03:51:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12879582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warmhandscoldheart/pseuds/Warmhandscoldheart
Summary: That moment, the moment in which Dean’s father starts shouting, will stay with Dean for the rest of his life.





	You Deserve It

**Author's Note:**

> Look at the warnings!! This is gonna be super triggering. There’s child abuse, alcoholism, blood, violence, and slight mention of starving. If you notice anything or want to make a fic request, comment below :D

"Sam?" Dean looks out the door into the kitchen. "Sammy?!" Silence. "Sam, this isn't funny any more." His voice becomes more and more panicked as he searches the dirty motel room for his missing brother.  The rumble of the impala alerts his time is up. He runs to sit on the couch, feet out straight in front of him.   
His father stumbles in, smelling like alcohol. "Where's..... Sam....?"  
"Um.... I-I..... I don't know...." Dean stutters.  
"What do you mean you don't know?! I told you to 'shoot first and ask questions later, and watch out for Sam'! Those were your only instructions and you fucked those up...” His voice sounds a lot clearer, and his whole demeanor changes. That moment, the moment in which Dean's father started shouting, will stay with Dean for the rest of his life.  
In a flash, his father's hand shoots out and squares Dean right in the jaw. He was shocked. My father just slapped me,  A single tear slips down Dean's cheek. Mistake.  Before he could brush it away John's fist landed on the other cheek.  
"You need to toughen up. Time for you to take what's comin' for you like a man. Not like a fuckin’ pussy.”  
"Yes, dad."  
Another punch. "What did you say to me, you little bitch?!”  
"Y-Yes sir."  
He nods, satisfied for now.  
   
Five years later - Age 11  
Another punch breaks his nose. His head knocks back, giving him whiplash. By now, Dean has learned not to cry or make any noise whatsoever. Don't tell Sammy or anyone else. And don't call for help. Take it like a man. You deserve this.  
These thoughts raced through his mind as he looked down. John takes off his belt, raises it high in the air, and brings it down – fast –onto Dean's bare stomach. The buckle digs into his skin before ripping out, only to come down another time. And another. Eventually, it just becomes a continuous pain all over.  
   
Five years later - Age 16  
Today John was more violent than usual. Sam got hurt on a hunt and all of the blame got thrust onto Dean. My fault! My fault! Words raced through his mind like credits at the end of a movie.  
"Sam could have died! You are worthless!"  
Worthless. My fault. Died. Sammy could be gone. My fault. Worthless. Worthless. Worthless.  
Dean stays silent but his mind is so loud. The screaming of his thoughts, the deafening roar of blood rushing through veins in his head. Veins that shouldn't be there. Not in his body. On the ground. Glittering black around his cold, lifeless body. He would be of more use to his family, his brother, that way. All he does is mess up anyways.  
Screw up.  
John clubs Dean up the side of his head, knocking him over. Dean lets out a little gasp, now lying on his side. Then comes the worst pain. A foot connects with his stomach. Another cracks a rib. Another. Another. Dean lost count of how many times he got kicked, the pain melding into one constant throbbing. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. It hurt. Dean throws up. Right there, on the floor next to him. Nothing much came up, he hasn't eaten a lot in a while. John chuckles darkly.  
The door knob twists and Dean's eyes widen. He can't let his brother see him like this. If Sam saw his father beating his own son, his life would be crushed. He should never know.  Sam should never have to see his brother, the person he looks up to the most, lying in a puddle of his own vomit and covered in bruises and blood. The worst is that Dean won't be able to do anything about it. He won't be able to run to the door, keeping it closed. He won't be able to shout to warn Sam to go away. He won't even be able to breathe without another round of sharp pain.  
But he doesn't have to worry about that. Dean's raspy, shuddering breath calms a little when he sees Bobby on the other side of the door. Once realization sets in, Dean is horrified as scenarios race through his mind at the speed of light.  
Bobby looks at John and then to Dean, face alarmingly contorted with anger. He takes out a loaded hand gun from the back of his oants and points it at the offending man.  
Bullets riddle him as he continues to hurt his son. John readies himself to kick Dean right on the temple, ending this once and for all, when a one more shot is fired. It enters the back of his skull, John crumpling to the floor instantly.  
Quickly Bobby picks Dean up and puts him in the passenger seat of his car, starting the journey to his house. To Sammy. About halfway through Dean finally passes out due to shock and pain.

Dean wakes up to a dull throbbing in his head. And a sharp pain in his stomach. And a cramp in his side. "Where am- oh." His eyes widen when he sees two pairs staring right back at him, belonging to Sam and Bobby. He quickly moves the blanket to cover his injuries.  
"Dean?" Sammy asks, fear lacing his tone.  
"Yeah Sammy?" His raspy voice was muffled by the blanket.  
"Did Dad do that to you?"  
"John ain't your dad no more. I am. If that is all right with you boys."  
Dean couldn't hide the relief flooding his face as he slowly lifted the blanket away. "How long was I out?" He asks after a while.  
"About four hours. You can relax now, boy. You’re safe now.”


End file.
